


looking back, i have this to regret

by kattenprinsen



Category: Katekyou Hitman Reborn!
Genre: Angst, Body Horror, Drinking to Cope, Other, Panic Attacks, Time Loop, Underage Drinking, flower symbolism, unrequited XS
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-06
Updated: 2018-04-13
Packaged: 2018-10-28 20:50:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,566
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10839201
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kattenprinsen/pseuds/kattenprinsen
Summary: Xanxus dies. He dies and then he wakes up the morning of his death with a flower growing from his skin. It only gets worse from there.





	1. Day 1

**Author's Note:**

> this is inspired by siviosanei's flowerfell au

[ anemone ](https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/736x/ca/be/90/cabe908abc2c7f85f315605b79ca2542.jpg), for abandonment

[ aquilegia ](http://flowerinfo.org/wp-content/gallery/columbine-flowers/columbine-flower-6.jpg), for egoism

[ snapdragon ](https://encrypted-tbn2.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcTXxPCQ-0NLDAXECMWLyZDkVVSiT8KKoCYSmfC6xSMD-eabO8XP), for arrogance

[ dog rose ](http://warehouse1.indicia.org.uk/upload/Rose,%20Dog-%20%20\(Rosa%20canina\)%20Granitethorpe%20Footpath%20Sapcote%20SP%204942%209354%20\(taken%205.6.2006\)....JPG), for delicacy and pleasure combined with pain and suffering

[ gladiolus ](https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/736x/c1/c4/7c/c1c47cbe11b674ca70b946f66de20a2f.jpg), for strength, but also indifference

_“There's a natural law of karma that vindictive people, who go out of their way to hurt others, will end up broke and alone.”_

_Sylvester Stallone_

 

Xanxus wakes with a jolt, confusingly terrified, and gasping for air. It takes him a second, but he can recognize the dark ceiling above him as his bedroom, and it’s a relief. For a second, at least, and then he’s lunging out of bed and for the bathroom.

 

Throwing up is never pleasant, but for some reason it feels worse than ever. He pushes away from the toilet, coughing, and wipes his mouth on his sleeve. It’s gross, and he knows he’ll regret it later, but he’s dizzy enough that he doesn’t want to get something else. He groans, and runs a hand over his clammy forehead, and that’s when he feels it.

 

He runs his hand over whatever it was that brushed across his knuckles, and frowns in confusion when he realizes it’s a flower. He tries to pull it out of- his hair?- and regrets it as intense pain blossoms from his temple, and his vision swims.

 

Again, Xanxus finds himself lying on his back, covered in sweat and feeling nauseous. This time, he doesn’t move, and instead closes his eyes and focuses on breathing. He silently counts, and wishes he could bring himself to move and get whiskey. Or vodka. Something strong enough he can stop thinking.

 

Once he thinks he won’t vomit again, he pulls himself off the floor and to the sink. He rinses out his mouth, shucks his dirty shirt, and catches sight of himself in the mirror. He can’t help but stare.

 

He knows, _knows_ , he got stabbed. It happened. He can remember every detail, including that it should have been lethal. Even with Sun Flames, it would have scarred. He thought, after he passed out, Squalo had gotten him out and to Lussuria to be healed, but-

 

There’s no scar.

 

He doesn’t have a scar, and there’s a flower at his temple. _In_ his temple. _What the fuck._

 

The flower _growing out of his skin_ is, admittedly, pretty. It’s on the smaller side, and mostly white with a blueish center. He touches one of the petals, and fights down nausea again. He has to grip the counter to make his hands stop shaking, because he could _feel_ when he touched the petal. Feel it _in the petal._ He had _sensation in the petals, what the fuck._ He almost wants to experiment, to touch the flower again, to feel his fingertip trace the edge of the petals, but _fuck-_

 

Xanxus sinks back onto the floor, leaning against the sink, and puts his head between his knees. His hands are shaking harder than ever. His breath feels like it’s choking him, and he’s gasping. He can’t breathe, can’t move, can’t-

 

In the back of his mind, past the panic and undercurrent of fear, there’s a voice whispering, _immobilizing panic attack,_ and it’s almost a relief to be able to put words to what’s happening, even just subconsciously.

 

“VOOOOOOOI, BOSS WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU-” Squalo’s voice cuts off the moment it reaches the bathroom, the moment his right hand sees him hunched in the bathroom. Xanxus can feel heat bloom up his neck and ears as he flushes in embarrassment, and he hates knowing he’s been caught in a moment of weakness.

 

He doesn’t look up at Squalo, can’t bring himself to raise his head, but he can feel Squalo slowly move closer. It’s a little harder to gauge distance without his sight, but he can, and it’s a relief when Squalo stops far enough away that it doesn’t feel like encroachment. He can hear Squalo sigh quietly, barely loud enough to be heard, but enough for his currently sound sensitive brain to register, and the shifting of leather that means Squalo is sitting on the floor with him.

 

Squalo doesn’t say anything, doesn’t offer Xanxus anything, but Xanxus can hear when he deliberately switches his breathing to a steady 8-count pattern. It’s a method all Varia recruits are taught, a breathing pattern to reduce anxiety and panic, because even the best of the best have mental health issues. Lussuria was the one to insist on learning it being a requirement, and at the moment Xanxus feels just a little bit grateful for it as he follows Squalo’s breathing with his own.

 

Once he feels like he can open his mouth without vomiting, or worse, _talking about_ what just happened, he shifts just enough to glower at Squalo. Who, of course, just stares back. He’s too used to it by now, which just makes Xanxus want to throw something. Preferably at Squalo.

 

“Bring me vodka, will you.” His voice is fucked, but Xanxus mentally writes that off as being because this is actually the first thing he’s said since waking up. Squalo twitches slightly, and if it’s even possible, his frown gets even more irritated and concerned.

 

“What- Boss, what the fuck was tha-” Xanxus doesn’t give Squalo time to finish speaking before he snarls and uncurls himself to lunge in Squalo’s direction. His right hand scrambles back and out of the bathroom, swearing viciously at him. Xanxus snarls again, animalistic as he can manage, and demands Squalo bring him at least four bottles, before he slamming the door in his right hand’s face.

As he leans against the door, sliding back down into a sitting position, he can hear Squalo bitching as he leaves, no doubt planning on telling on him, on his mental state, to Lussuria before he comes back with the booze.

 

 _Fuck._ What the fuck is his life, even. Xanxus runs a hand over his face, head lolling back to meet solid wood, and he curses again. Squalo didn’t even seem to see the flower, eyes just skipping over it. It’s going to be a long day.


	2. Day 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Enough is enough. Sort of.
> 
> Also known as: Squalo has Strong Opinions about personal hygiene

_“For the first time I could remember, I felt weak, woozy and stupid- like a human-being. Like a very small and helpless human-being.”_

_-Jeff Lindsay, Darkly Dreaming Dexter_

  


He hasn’t left his room in days. Xanxus almost wants to snarl, and moves his arm from over his eyes to stare up at his ceiling. Two days ago Squalo started camping outside of his room, and he knows he definitely needs to leave before his idiots get the idea that he needs _help_. He can already hear Lussuria’s concerned bitching, feel Squalo’s worry thrumming down the guardian bond. Despite the fact that it gives at least six people a bullshit magic link into his emotional state, he can’t bring himself to regret Harmonizing with them. Even the shitty prince’s indignant anger over Xanxus’ current self-imposed unavailability is somehow endearing at the moment.

 

 _Fuck_ . This needs to stop. He’s getting fuckin’ _sentimental_ about shit now. It’s time to get the fuck up.

 

Xanxus heaves himself into an upright position, wincing as his head throbs. He’s upped his alcohol intake by _a lot_ within the past few days and he is _feeling it_ . It doesn’t help at all that the shitty _fucking flower_ in his skull seems to amplify every shitty goddamn thing in his life. Every stupid decision he’s made since waking up like this, _in this stupid fucking bullshit magic assholery of a state,_ seems to resonate through the stupid little flower like the world’s most fucked up headache.

 

 _God,_ he _hates this._

 

His stomach cramps painfully as he hauls himself out of bed, another reminder that he needs to grow the fuck up and face the world. There was only so long his stash of dried foods, a habit from childhood he’s never really been able to break, could last him before he needed to actually leave his room and eat. He stands and strides over to the door, firmly pressing a hand to his forehead in an attempt to ward off the dizziness that came with dehydration. Fuck, he hates this. He hates this so much. It’s driving him to _ruin, god._

 

He yanks open his bedroom door, snorting quietly when Squalo, squawking like the infuriated mother hen he pretends he isn’t, comes tumbling backwards into Xanxus’ knees. Xanxus stares down at his rain, his best friend, and _fuck_ , if he hadn’t already known he looks like shit Squalo’s silence when he meets Xanxus’ eyes would have let him know.

 

The concern and confusion in those eyes stings. Xanxus doesn’t know what to say and it _fucking sucks_ . He _hates so much_ that he doesn’t know _shit_ about what’s happening. Doesn’t know how to fucking reach out and ask for help. Help that he obviously needs because there’s a _fucking flower growing out of his skin, what the_ **_fuck_ **.

 

A hand wraps around his knee, firmly but carefully, and Xanxus’ jerks, nearly kneeing Squalo in the eye. He gets a scowl for it, but it just makes Squalo hold on tighter, grounding him.

 

“What the _fuck_ happened to you, Xanxus? Where did you just go?” Squalo’s voice is low, and Xanxus can just fuckin’ _hear_ the tension in it. The worry and fear of something Squalo can’t fight, lack of knowledge.

 

Xanxus shrugs, shutting his eyes and letting out a deep breath. It’s the wrong thing to do.

 

“A couple days ago you were practically foaming at the mouth to get back at your- at the old man, and then all the sudden you just- you just fucking locked yourself away. Teenage angst is one thing, boss, but this? This is too fuckin’ much. You haven’t been coming out to eat and all you’ve fuckin’ requested from the kitchens is enough fuckin’ liquor to pickle yourself. Do you have any idea how _fuckin’ worried_ we’ve been? _What the fuck is wrong with you?_ ”

 

Mid-snarl, Squalo digs his fingers into the soft parts of Xanxus’ knee, and he purposely leans forward to collapse on Squalo when his leg buckles. The two of them go down in a yowling heap, wrestling each other like- like _children_ . Xanxus bites down, not really gently but certainly not enough to actually harm, on Squalo’s leg when the idiot tries to choke him out with them. It’s been _ages_ since they did something like this, vicious and rowdy roughhousing like they’re goddamn _toddlers_ or something.

 

It’s refreshing. And weirdly comforting, especially in the wake of crazy that is a _motherfucking flower in his_ **_fuckin’ temple_ **.

 

A few minutes later they collapse back onto the floor, breathing heavy. Xanxus’ mind strays for a moment, a split second, toward the gutter before he ruthlessly beats it back. Not now, he tells it. Not Squalo. Squalo who pledged his undying loyalty to Xanxus and would do anything to prove it, Squalo who is Xanxus’ dearest friend, even if he will never admit it out loud. Squalo whose long, long hair is curled in one of Xanxus’ (possessive, so possessive) fists. Squalo who is who is _talking_ right now. Shit.

 

“-Are you even fucking hearing me right now, you shitty asshole. I am lying on your stupid shitty rug that hasn’t been cleaned in days, letting you use me as a goddamn pillow and-”  
  
“Squalo,” Xanxus interrupts.

 

Squalo falls silent immediately, the two of them have been referring to each other as ‘shitty boss’ and ‘shitty shark’ for years now, only really using names when there’s something _important_ to be said. It’s worrying, for Squalo, to hear his name from Xanxus after _fucking days_ of his sky locking himself away from them.

 

Squalo pushes himself up on an elbow, curling over Xanxus’ head where it’s resting on a thigh. Xanxus is- he’s _smiling._

 

Xanxus smiles up at his Rain, half smug half grateful, and tugs gently on the fistful of hair he has.

 

“Thanks for worrying.”

 

Squalo scowled viciously down at Xanxus, and reached down and tugged sharply on his feathers, making Xanxus hiss. Xanxus could see the pink flush creeping up Squalo’s neck and ears, though, and it made him smirk outright.

 

“Don’t fucking thank me, you stupid, idiot boss! You _reek_ like stale booze, didn’t you fucking _shower_ in your _stupid, shitty self_ isolation?”

 

Xanxus snorted bitterly, “Nah. Mostly I just drank until I blacked out and cleared out my food stash.”

 

Mostly he hadn’t because the one time he tried, the _sensation_ in the _fucking flower in his head_ had nauseated him, unused to having sensation there, and it had freaked him out enough that he didn’t feel like trying again.

Squalo faltered, his scowl flickering into something more concerned briefly, before deepening.

 

“If you shower now while I get you food and let the others know you’re alive, are you going to pass out? Or do I need to fucking supervise you at all times to keep you alive and healthy.”

 

Hell no, if he couldn’t handle it on his own earlier, there’s absolutely _no fucking way_ he’s letting anyone else see him having a moment of weakness. _Especially_ not his Rain. Deflection, it is.

 

“If you want to see me without clothes, shitty shark, just fuckin’ say so,” Xanxus leered, making eye contact with Squalo and rolling his shoulders in a way that he _knew_ made his neck and collarbones look good. It was gratifying, if a little guilty-feeling, the way Squalo flushed red.

 

Xanxus lets out an embarrassing squawk as he’s dumped on the floor, Squalo standing abruptly.

 

“VOOOO _OOOI, YOU SHITTY FUCKING ASSHOLE!_ IF YOU HAVE TIME TO MAKE SHIT JOKES YOU HAVE TIME TO FUCKING SHOWER.”

 

Xanxus flips off Squalo as his Rain storms out of his room, presumably off to the kitchens to bitch about him to his fellow guardians and bring back food. He lies on the floor for a couple minutes even after his door slams shut.

 

He hadn't noticed when his headache had faded, probably in the influence of Squalo’s flames, but now it’s back with a vengeance, and Xanxus runs a hand over his face. His thumb brushes against the flower when he rubs his temples, and he can’t help but shudder.

 

 _Gross. It’s so weird._ He’s not looking forward to feeling water from the showerhead batter against the petals, drip down the stem and run into his eyes. _God._

 

He’ll do it anyway though. Not because Squalo asked him to, not entirely. Stale booze isn’t exactly a smell _he_ enjoys either. Reminds him too much of- of childhood, and his mom. Of what used to be home.

 

Xanxus shakes himself, rolling to his feet and stripping off his shirt on the way to his bathroom. He kicks off the rest of his clothes once he’s in and turns the shower on. He can’t help but examine The Flower, as he’s realized he’s started thinking about it, in the mirror as the water warms.

 

It- it looks simultaneously healthier, more _rooted into his goddamn skin, his skull,_ and also wilted, like his blackouts from drinking, lack of hygiene, and poor eating habits and dehydration from the past few days have effected it, as well as him.

 

Then again, it’s a part of him now, in a gross, parasitic, nightmare-ish way. Xanxus blinks hard, shudders again. The mirror is fogging up, starting to obscuring his vision.

 

He braces himself and steps under the water.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i kept having to remind myself while i wrote this that these boys are literal teenagers so i don't have to tone down the moping or the brattiness lol


End file.
